


fear no more

by fireundertheashes



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Family Dynamics, IT'S ME, T for minor swearing and descriptions of violence/injury in later chapters, Trevelyan Siblings, adventure ho!, assume pretty much all major DA characters will appear, basically an excuse for all my fave inquisitors to interact, i'm the adventure ho, it's taken me approximately 3 years to finally sit down and write this, probably a big fic idk yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 20:00:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14316096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireundertheashes/pseuds/fireundertheashes
Summary: Nightmares keep Inquisitor Elsa Trevelyan awake more nights than not, and settling into Skyhold is challenge enough without the looming pressures of planning to foil an assassination attempt against the Empress of Orlais.Elsa had little interest in being a war hero, let alone Hope of Thedas against that which more and more looked like the end of days, and here she was with no choice in the matter whatsoever.Her reluctant priorities are almost straight when her estranged family comes charging back into her life to upset the apple cart once more.





	fear no more

**Author's Note:**

> I actually finished fully typing and editing the first chapter two days ago but haven't been able to post it cause I couldn't come up with a decent summary. Anyway, DAI is one of my favourite games of all time, and like most I'm way too attached to my Inquisitors, so I've just finally got myself together to write this.
> 
> Any geographical or timeline inaccuracies can be blamed on my own dumb self/chalked up to poetic license/other excuses I'm sure I can dig out. 
> 
> I hope you love Elsa and her family as much as I do <3

Skyhold would be perfect, with time.  


The forces of the Inquisition that remained had settled in the fortress, claiming rooms and making them as homely as possibly with the meagre handfuls of possessions they could carry as they fled the destruction of Haven.

  
Elsabeth Trevelyan had been less than sure about Solas’s suggestion but out of options, weak and in danger of freezing as they were all she could do was put her faith in the elf. And faith had never been Elsa’s strongest attribute. Surviving all the way to the new home of the Inquisition had been miracle enough; it would take many hours of hard work to make the fortress truly habitable and many more to make it an attractive prospect for those looking for a cause. She could only hope that it would be worth it in the end.   


Elsa took up rooms above the main hall. Or more was talked into taking them. _Rooms more befitting of her status_ , Cassandra had said, with a tone of voice that spoke of both reverence and exasperation.   


The only items Elsa had managed to retain through her near death experience in Haven were the very clothes on her back and her sword, neither of which were in a state to be kept much past their arrival to Skyhold. She did not care much for her rooms to be outfitted at all, least of all reflecting some ridiculous status, she relinquished any kind of claim to that when she had left the Trevelyan home some five years before the Breach split the skies above Ferelden.   


Yet here she was, in a castle in the Frostback Mountains, preparing at length to travel to Val Royeaux to foil an assassination attempt against the Orlesian empress. Mere months ago Elsa Trevelyan had been close to nothing. Now she was charged with the future of Thedas.   


It was _utterly exhausting_ .   


Elsa was no stranger to hard work, or long days of travel, but the stress of literal impending apocalypse, the weight of the lives lost at Haven... This was a world of war with which she was not familiar, and from which there was little escape. No matter where she turned she was _Herald_ , she was _Inquisitor_ , longing for the days when she could be Elsa once more.

 

It only took a handful of days before the constant calls of “Inquisitor” grated on her nerves far more than “Herald” ever had. She could deny being Herald of Andraste, and did so vehemently, unwilling to bear that weight of faith. She could not deny being Inquisitor, that was a title to which she had knowingly agreed.

 

Best as she could, Elsa tried to cajole everyone in her inner circle into using her name, to forget for a little while. For the most part it was a successful endeavour, even if on official business her title was obviously preferable.

 

However, there were some notable exceptions. Solas kept a respectful distance, they were _friendly_ but not _friends_ and to Elsa that was a fine situation for the both of them. Varric had his own slew of nicknames for her, of course. As did Sera - though hers were more... unique, put mildly.

 

The only person who point blank refused to use anything other than her title was Commander Cullen, and it was singularly frustrating. And awkward too in council meetings when Josephine, Leliana and Cassandra would use her name and title interchangeably, comfortably, depending on the tone of the meeting. Yet Cullen would not stray from a simple “Inquisitor” regardless of the setting.

 

She shared books with Cassandra, spoke of history and culture with Leliana, gossiped with Josephine, and still she had yet to share even a moment with Cullen that could be considered akin to an overture to friendship, and it was bothersome.

 

Skyhold contained the most ragtag bunch of companions that ever did exist, she was sure, but she was grateful for every single one of them. For their individual skills and wisdom, if not always for their personalities. Whenever she had to venture forth (usually to the _Maker-forsaken_ Hinterlands where the busy work never seemed to be done) she knew she could trust them, her team.  In the War Room also, she had confidence that she would not be knowingly steered wrong.

 

Every choice had consequences, she was not fool enough to think otherwise. Elsa knew this long before a brief jaunt into a terrifying future lay bare the full weight of the options at her feet.

 

And here she was, preparing to make another one of those choices.

 

“Nothing will be quite as it appears from the moment we set foot into Halamshiral. You must be prepared for that,” Cassandra said. The meeting was nearing its end and as such Elsa had chosen to pull away from the war table, and lounge in a chair that had previously occupied a corner of the room. It probably wasn’t very Inquisitorly to lean your elbows on the maps but she was past caring, and she had done enough standing for the day.

 

“Out of the archdemon’s fire and into the Empress’ ballroom. I’m not sure which I fear more at this point.” Elsa gave a wry smile as she rubbed at the small scar that bisected her chin at an odd angle. She smirked a little broader when she caught Cullen’s eye and saw a similar expression on his face, though he looked away almost immediately and schooled his face back into mask of the Inquisition’s Commander that she was now so familiar with.

 

Josephine and Leliana seemingly did not let Elsa’s pessimism curb their excitement at the prospect of the Game.

 

“Josephine, who might best accompany me to the Winter Palace?”

 

Josephine set her quill in its holder, and turned away from her notes. “Cullen, Leliana, and myself will of course be attending as representatives of The Inquisition,”

 

“Other than that,” Leliana chimed in, smiling beatifically in a way that only a spymaster could. “Anyone you would like. The invitation was to the Inquisition as much as it was the Inquisitor.”

 

“We will notify the court of who you elect to join us so that the necessary preparations may be made. It would be wise to make your decisions soon.”

 

Immediately Elsa’s thoughts ran to The Iron Bull, and Sera. Varric. Even Dorian was not _best_ suited for a fancy Orlesian party, let alone the fanciest of all Orlesian parties.

 

“We’re not worried about... causing a stir?”

 

“My dear Inquisitor,” Leliana said with a laugh in her voice. “A stir is precisely what we seek to cause. In a manner of speaking, at least. No reason to make Josie’s job harder than it already is.”

 

As if Leliana’s words were prophecy, the sound of rapidly approaching armour began to echo from beyond the door to the War Room. Not unusual, frequently messengers needed to interrupt meetings for whatever reason. What was unusual were the muffled sounds of protesting, and the overdramatic cough before a forceful knock sounded at the door.

 

“Inquisitor Trevelyan?” came the familiar voice of a scout, who Elsa thought may have been named Alice. “There’s a man here, insisting you’ll want to see him.”

 

Elsa’s face contorted in confusion. No word had been sent ahead that she was to expect delegates or the like, and none of the council seemed any more enlightened when she looked to them for clues. So Elsa shrugged, went to the door, and opened it to Scout Alice’s sheepish expression.

 

“Who?”

 

The scout became more sheepish, if that were possible. “He would not give his name. Said it should be a surprise, and wouldn’t take no for an answer. He doesn’t seem to present a threat.”

 

Elsa looked back into the War Room. Suspicion clear in everyone’s faces, she indicated that Cassandra follow her, but was unsurprised to hear the others also move to satiate their curiosity also. Together they walked the short way to Josephine’s study.

 

A young man sat on the chair before the hearth. Dressed in light, green armour with accents of bronze that glimmered in the firelight, highlighting the copper tones in his dark shoulder length hair, and tanned skin. A solid bow was propped against the armchair. A weapon originally gifted by Elsabeth Trevelyan herself.

 

“...Lukas? _Lukas_ , what are you _doing_ here?”

 

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” smirked the man, standing to greet Elsa, and she was suddenly overcome with a rush of emotion running the last few steps and throwing herself into his arms.  It took everything not to begin sobbing into his shoulder but her inability to control her reaction to his presence thus far was unbecoming enough. Elsa was suddenly very glad this was occurring in the antechamber rather than the main hall.

 

“Hello, Elsie.” he muttered softly. “It’s been a while.”

 

Elsa stepped back, holding Lukas by the shoulders and taking stock of Lukas. How he had grown into his square jaw and his hair was no longer a mess of tangles pulled into a matted ponytail. The man before her clearly took pride in his appearance, which was a far cry from his eighteen year old self.

 

“A while,” she laughed through her tears. “Five years. You’ve certainly changed.”

 

“I’m finally taller than you.” Barely, but he was. Broader as well, carrying himself so much like their father that it almost pained her to look upon him.

 

“At last, you can reach the top shelves in the pantry!”

 

“Inquisitor,” Elsa turned back to Cullen, whose expression could only be described as _carefully blank_ . “Who is this man?”   
  
“Forgive my intrusion, valued advisors to The Inquisition. I am Lukas Trevelyan, youngest son of the House of Trevelyan, and brother to the Lady Inquisitor.“

 

“Your brother,” deadpanned Cassandra, looking unimpressed.

 

“Who did not send any word of his impending arrival.” She resisted the urge to jokingly punch him in the shoulder.

 

“A surprise. Much like your sudden emergence into the Thedan limelight.”

 

Elsa was taken aback by the spike of bitterness in Lukas’s voice.

 

“It may be prudent to hold this conversation for later, Inquisitor.” came Josephine’s gentle voice. Elsa took a deep breath and stepped back from Lukas. “I will see to rooms being prepared for you, Ser Trevelyan. Ah, assuming that you are intending to stay?”

 

“Indeed I am, Lady Montilyet.” Lukas replied with a smile that Elsa supposed he thought was rakish. Josephine didn’t seem to notice overmuch, already bustling around her desk to make preparations.

 

“You are?”

 

“I have come to offer my services to the Inquisition.” Lukas executed a swift and somewhat flamboyant bow, arm swept out to the side in a grand gesture and all at once, a worrisome thought occurred to Elsa.

 

“You came alone?”

 

Lukas looked slightly abashed. He was hiding something beneath this unfamiliar sense of bravado.

 

“Joshua is still attending to his responsibilities. I came alone.”

 

And suddenly it coalesced in Elsa’s mind.

 

“Lukas,” Elsa clamped her hands over his shoulders, forcing him to meet her steely gaze, “did you tell mother and father what you were planning?”

 

“It, ah, may have slipped my mind to do so.”

 

“Josephine, could you send a message to my parents. Inform them that we’ve found their wayward rogue.”

 

“Yes, Inquisitor.”

 

“I’m going to take my brother for a walk and we’re going to have a little chat.”

 

  
No one uttered a word of protest as Elsa steered her brother from the room.  
  


\-------------

 

Elsa led Lukas out into the courtyard, subjecting him to a long, cold walk of the walls before redirecting back to her personal chambers, and onto the balcony thereof. Taking a deep breath to calm her tumultuous thoughts, Elsa settled against with her back against the railing, whilst her brother looked for all the world like he might try to throw himself off. He started pacing a little,  backwards and forwards across the stone floor, now much more tense than he had been in Josephine’s office.

 

She wasn’t sure where the sentence was going when she started, “Lukas-”  


But it didn’t matter, as Lukas stopped suddenly.

 

“It is _so good_ to see you, Elsie. I can’t put into words how much I’ve missed you. I thought we would never see you again. What happened... however did Andraste bring you here?”

 

Elsa let out a humourless laugh. “Oh, my brother. We’re all of us still trying to figure that out.”

 

Her hand throbbed subtly, as it did near constantly. Elsa had gotten so used to the ache of it that it only really registered as pain again when someone made mention of it. For the most part her gloves covered the sickening glow and it was a case of out of sight, out of mind.

 

“I can’t decide if this is the part where you shout at me, or I shout at you.”

 

“I’m not much in a position to chastise you for running away from home. Though I had the common decency to leave a letter behind, baby brother.”

 

“My sister is the Herald of Andraste, and she’s somehow ended up with a castle. How could I not join in on this adventure?”

 

“Lukas. This is _war_.” Elsa said firmly, something in her heart stinging. “We’re facing demons, possibly even another Blight. This isn’t playing Templars and Mages in the Free Marches. We’ve lost so much, so many already. I would not have you be one of them.”

 

“Nor would I, to be perfectly honest with you. But you’re here, Elsa, so I am too. I would follow you into the very maw of the archdemon.”

  


\-------------

 

The nightmares woke Elsa in the early morning, when the darkness was still pitch upon the mountains. The candle on her bedside table had long burned out, puddles of melted wax collected in the dish of the candlestick, and the tang of smoke faded to nothing.

 

Elsa tossed and turned, making every attempt to return to slumber, but the infestations of red lyrium choking the life and sanity from those she had come to hold dear. Leliana’s gaunt visage and the shrieks of demons haunting the moments before her eyes would snap open and fill with tears. If only this was new...

 

For a moment Elsa considered lighting another candle, perhaps composing another letter home that would never be sent, but the lethargy in her body would not subside.

 

It was not until the first whispers of morning light crept over the Frostback Mountains that Elsa found any spirit to move from beneath her covers. Foregoing the richer quilted jackets with which she had been supplied, no doubt Josephine had them stored in her closets when she had refused them initially, Elsa instead donned a plain leather surcoat to combat the cold air, roughly braided her hair and left her quarters.

 

Walking into the main hall Elsa had yet to decide on a destination. A mild headache was pressing at her temple, a side-effect of the lack of sleep she had been running on recently, and she could only hope that the oppressive chill of the night would help ease it.

 

The gardens seemed like the most logical place for her feet to carry her. There would be people there eventually, the upkeep of the newly installed herb gardens and nurseries of useful plant life needing fairly rigorous supervision.  It was unimpressive in its infancy but promising as a resource for Skyhold’s medics. There was not a great amount of workable land around Skyhold, slowly however there was more and more life within the walls of the fortress.

 

Elsa paced the perimeter of the garden before deciding that taking a seat on a bench nestled between though not crowded by the stout trees would settle her thoughts.

 

Sleepless nights weren’t exactly new to Elsa, even before the events at the Conclave had shattered the relative peace of her life. Nightmares had haunted her for as long as she could remember but until the Inquisition the events of these dreams had been so vague as to be forgettable after only a handful of hours, even if Elsa was left listless and headachey from denied rest.

Now she saw the demise of her friends, and worst of all Elsa could not compartmentalise the dreams as a creation of her unconscious mind. While to the others the occurences that had taken place in that doomed future were only a portent, a maybe, a potentiality of failure, to Elsa they were a part of her past.

 

At least, even if the sleepless nights were finding new aggravation, Elsa and the Inquisition had gained Dorian. Quickly he had installed himself as a comforting presence in Elsa’s life,  and was the only person who had taken to using her shortened name with hardly a moment’s persuasion. He did not stand on ceremony around her and Elsa would ever be grateful to him.

 

Despite the chill of the cold air curling against her temples the headache was not easing. Absently she toyed with the end of her braid, running her fingers over the texture of the plaited strands, and past the ribbon that held them securely together at the end. Elsa didn’t know how long she sat there, focusing on the sensation, anything to draw her focus away from her memories and the low pulsing pain in the socket of her eye.

 

Her mind only returned back to the moment when she heard a frustrated mutter from a short distance away.

 

The sun was high enough for Elsa to call it morning but not so that she yet expected another person in the gardens. Fighting down a sudden surge of anxiety at being _caught_ somehow, she debated for a moment before the voice muttered again and her curiosity won her over.

 

Elsa was surprised by her unaware companion though it took her perhaps too long to recognise him without the attire in which she was accustomed to seeing him. Cullen stood a short way off, near a half-blooming trellis, clearly lost in thought, wearing a simple tunic where Elsa would expect to see his regular armour plates. His hair was mussed and curling and even across the distance Elsa could see dark circles beneath his eyes.

 

“Commander Rutherford?”

 

He startled at her voice, spinning on his heel, surprised by the presence of another in a place he clearly expected to find empty.

 

“Inquisitor? What-”

 

Elsa did not see much reason to dodge the truth.

 

“Bad dreams have chased me from my quarters unfortunately.”

 

Her feet carried her to stand just a little closer to the Commander. Despite everything, Elsa had said little to Cullen outside of official Inquisition business. Most of what she knew of him came second-hand, though Elsa paid little attention to idle gossip.

 

She had never held a conversation with the man as anything other than a colleague and expected social niceties. Her stumbling overtures at friendship in Haven had been unreciprocated and before long, Elsa gave up trying.

 

But here he stood before her in the gardens of Skyhold, the early morning light casting more shadows than illuminations, none of the entrapments of his station about him. Suddenly Elsa had the overwhelming sense that her perceptions of him were wrong. This was a man, and she had only ever seen him as a soldier.

 

“I’m sorry. I’ll leave you be,” he said, and Elsa couldn’t _stand_ the thought.

 

“No! I mean, you’re welcome to stay. It’s not _my_ garden. I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be here at this time.”

 

“Nor was I.”

 

There was a moment of silence. Elsa, somewhere deep inside, knew that this was an opportunity to bridge the distance between them that had irritated her so much.

 

“Truth be told,” she started, though it was no such thing. “I was growing bored sat on my own. Please, Commander, would you sit with me for a time?”

 

Cullen’s gaze met hers squarely in a way that he only did when making the firmest arguments in the war room. Though she liked to think she could almost see the thoughts swirling in his eyes, she could not interpret them beyond a vague sense that she was being searched somehow.

 

Another long moment passed.

 

“Perhaps another time, Inquisitor,” he said, and left.

 

The swell of disappointment that followed his exit made Elsa feel sick.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm incredibly proud of this, it's the longest piece I've written for fandom and I am excited to see where it goes. Other pairings will follow and will be tagged accordingly when it won't be terribly spoileriffic to do so. 
> 
> My tumblr is a mess but if anyone wants to message me I'll sort it out :)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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